


Eyes Wide Open

by Mooselk



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Arranged Marriage, Canon Non-Binary Character, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooselk/pseuds/Mooselk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soowon, daughter of Yuhon, and the events that lead to her rise to power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write an analysis of fem!Soowon but then it kind of spiraled and so this fic was born. It is going to cover the years from Yuhon's death to at least Soowon's coronation (it really depends on what my brain decides to do) :) Enjoy!

_The scene: a man, a horse, a child, the huge and silent forest. It is twilight: the last faded colors of sunset are fading from the world. The branches above them are black silhouettes against the dimming expanse of the sky. Their leaves shiver in the chill breeze, whispering and hissing. They have started to turn but have not fallen yet. When the sun returns, it will paint this world into shades of orange, gold, and brown, but now, in the falling gloom, it is monochromatic, all that color fading into a somber dark grey. The stars appear one by one, barely visible through the canopy. There isn’t a cloud in the sky to hide their brightness once the branches clear away. It is a moonless night and the wind is cold. Winter seems closer now than it did an hour ago. Staring up through the branches, the child feels like the sky, clear and empty and distant._

* * *

 

   After two days of nearly non-stop riding, Joodoh is forced to stop to allow his horse to rest. Lifting his companion off the horse, he sets her down gently by a tree where she sits quietly, staring at the ground. She hasn’t made a sound during their flight; he doubts that she will break her silence now.

    Joodoh sets about making a fire. It is looking to be a cold night and at the speed they had fled from the palace, he had not had time to put on any kind of cloak or overcoat. The girl has a cloak- she had been wearing one when he had found her curled in a barrel of hay in the stables. At that moment, he had been too relieved to have found her to question her odd attire. Now that he looks at her, wearing a simple tunic and with her hair loose, he realizes that she could easily pass for a commoner, a peasant boy, even. His guess is that she had been on her way to sneak out of the palace, as was her habit. It was lucky that she had not made it, all things considering. As soon as her father’s body was found, broken at the base of the cliffs surrounding Hiryuu palace , Joodoh’s first instinct had been to grab her and ride as fast as he could away from the place. If he had needed to comb all of Kuuto to find her, they would likely still be there now.

   The hard days of riding had muted all things from his mind, but now, in the stillness of the forest, he remembers the wild struggle she had put up when he had started to pull her out of the hay. She seemed not to recognize him at first, and primal terror made her fight him with desperate abandon, screaming and limbs flailing. Only when he managed to pin her arms to her sides did she get a good look at his face and sagged in his arms, allowing him to bundle her onto his horse. A bruise on his cheekbone where one of her fists had made contact still aches now. He runs his fingers over it and wonders. What had she seen that had struck her into this state? What would it mean for both their futures? He would not press her until they returned to her family’s country home, where her mother could be the witness and handle the situation. Joodoh is a swordsman, not a politician, and definitely not a parent. All he knows is that he could never have imagined that this child’s silence could unnerve him this much.

   Joodoh has been training her in the art of the sword, half in secret, for several years now and had thought that she would never stop talking. Her father had approached him two years ago, face set in his usual stoic mask, and all but commanded Joodoh to take over the girl’s swordsmanship. At the time, Joodoh had been skeptical but he knew better than to defy the General, especially when it came to his daughter. She was and would remain his only child, her mother being too frail to birth any more potential sons. The General decided that any child of his must learn to wield any weapon they could lift, and when the General decided something, it was carried out. But with his departure to the country’s borders, he could no longer oversee his daughter’s training himself. Joodoh, as Captain of the guard and the General’s second-in-command, inherited the dubious honor of continuing the girl’s training. Joodoh might have grumbled about it, but in truth the girl was bright-eyed and diligent, learning quickly. Teaching her was interesting in ways Joodoh had not expected; sometimes in between the practiced motions of the drills, he would catch an odd motion or a stumbling feint that was oddly reminiscent of back alley brawls. Gods only knew where she learned those, though he suspected that if he was to ever follow her on a nightly excursion he would find out. His only complaint was that the girl chattered incessantly, always voicing her dreamy thoughts, in Joodoh’s opinion distracting both herself and everyone around her. But now, with the heavy silence that had wrapped around both of them for the duration of their desperate flight, Joodoh cannot help but wish that she would show some sign of her usual, energetic self.

   The fire dances and crackles, sending cinders flying into the darkness of the sky. Joodoh is brought out of his dark thoughts by an especially loud snap and automatically looks towards his charge. Soowon, daughter of Yuhon, now deceased, watches the fire with a pale, expressionless face. In the orange glow, her face has lost the roundness of childhood, shadows licking their way up her cheekbones. When the light glints off of her eyes, Joodoh feels a chill. What had she seen that had made her into this frozen statue? What could it be and …does he want to know?

  He watches the fire dance in her eyes all night, and when the sun rises, neither has slept a wink.

   In the morning, he leaves her sitting by the ashes of the campfire and goes to refill his waterskin. It is a rarely visited part of the forest; the underbrush is thick and impassible. Joodoh has to fight his way through the bushes to a nearby brook. He needs to bring his horse there later to be sure it was watered and prepared for another stretch of hard riding. The distance that Joodoh plans to cover in four days usually takes at least a week and a half; even messengers take five days to reach Yonghi’s country home. It is quiet and out of the way, perfect for Yuhon’s frail wife to rest peacefully. It is also far enough away that no news could have reached it ahead of them. No one would arrive there before he did, Joodoh would make sure of that. He needs to be the one to deliver the news of Yuhon’s death to his wife, but he also has to make sure that Soowon is safely returned to her mother.

  When he returns to their makeshift campsite, she rises to meet him. It is the first self initiated motion she has made in two days. Her cloak trails on the ground behind her, the tattered brown ends standing out against the soot stained ground. Joodoh suddenly recognizes it as one of Yuhon’s old capes. A lump forms in his throat for his beloved general, bubbling up together with pity for the girl. He quickly swallows both down. Yuhon would have berated him for unnecessary sentimentality and Soowon… She doesn’t need his pity- his horse and his ability to get them both back to Yonghi are infinitely more important now. There is no time to waste on grief at this moment.

The stop clears his head enough for him to become deeply worried for the child in his arms during their next stretch of riding. The stillness with which she holds herself is unnatural; even her breaths seem to come rarely and shallowly. Just once, a shudder runs through her in seeming precursor to a sob. Before Joodoh can panic however, her shoulders tense, and she stills again, retreating further into herself. He spurs his horse on faster and they do not stop again.

* * *

 

   When they finally thunder into the dusty courtyard of the country home, Joodoh’s vision is greying around the edges. He gets off his horse instinctually, and presses the girl into the first pair of arms in his line of sight, before sinking to his knees in a sudden burst of dizziness. He is so parched that his mouth won’t move to answer the sudden flurry of questions that explode around him. A flask of water is passed to him and he drinks it all desperately in large gulps. His head clears slowly and he stands, wobbling slightly. Soowon ducks under the arm of the maid that is trying to coax some information out of her and flits back to Joodoh’s side. She clings to his tunic with surprising determination and he automatically wraps an arm around her shoulders before he can question his own actions.

   A flurry of murmurs catches his attention and he looks around for the source before gaping as well. She is standing on the top of the steps, wrapped into many layers of robes but still shivering in the autumn air. This is the first time Joodoh has seen her outside in nearly a year, and the light of the sun does her pale, sickly face no favors. For a moment, his shock cuts through the feeling of dread and he stands there numbly and watches as one of the elderly maids tries to shoo her lady back inside.

   “Please, lady Yonghi, return to your rooms! You will catch a chill if you stay out.”

    Yonghi’s quiet protestation is cut off when Soowon suddenly separates from Joodoh’s side and bolts up the stairs, throwing her arms around her mother’s waist and burying her face in Yonghi’s robes. Joodoh sees a startled expression cross Yonghi’s face. She quickly glances up and beckons him to follow with a glance before grabbing her daughter by the hand and gliding back into the wide doors of the manor. Her sickness has not affected the lightness of her steps whatsoever. Joodoh nods to the muttering servants and follows his lady inside. She makes her way to her chambers, in the private wing of the house that Joodoh has never visited. He hesitates but a pointed glance from the lady prompts him to set aside propriety and enter.

   He shuts the door behind him as he enters. The maids have been dismissed, and the spacious room suddenly feels too small. Yonghi watches him from her position on a lavish couch, her eyes cold and hard as her daughter shakes with the sobs that she has been suppressing for the last four days in her arms.

   “Your report, Captain Joodoh.”

   There is no trace of the usual warmth in her voice, and the underlying steel in it prompts Joodoh to fall to one knee. He does not look at her face as he delivers his awful news, staring instead at the wooden paneled floors. For a long moment, the only sound in the room is Soowon’s quiet hiccups.

   “How did he die?” Yonghi asks, her voice level and calm. It does not shake or crack; she could have been discussing the household inventory rather than the death of her husband.

   “General Yuhon’s body was found on the rocks at the base of the palace walls. We left too quickly to get the opinion of any doctor, but it seemed as though he had fallen from a parapet and…” he swallowed, glancing at the lady’s stony expression before continuing, “impaled himself on the rocks… The General could not have defeated by any man, especially inside the palace walls. It must have been some awful accident that---“

   “No…” the whisper cuts across Joodoh’s halting speech as Soowon turns to face him, red eyed and shaking. “No, it was not an a-accident. Accidents did not – they did not happen to Father. Not like this. I saw it. I saw- It was –‘ she takes a shuddering breath, “’ it was _murder_.” Here, she dissolves into sobs again. However, before she could bury her face, her mother takes her by the shoulders and stares directly into her face.

  “What do you mean by this, daughter? What did you see?” The girl is crying too hard to answer so Yonghi shakes her twice before repeating, “Tell me now! What did you see?”

  Soowon chokes on her sobs and gasps “ He _k-killed_ him! With a sword, he _killed him_!”

   “Who?!”

   “Uncle Il!”

   Following this outburst, the room feels quiet as a tomb and icy cold. There is a faint whirring in Joodoh’s ears as he struggles to process this information. That… that cannot be right. There is no way that kind, weak Il could ever best his brother when it came to martial combat. And even before that, he had always idolized Yuhon. Why would he kill him? It did not make sense! If anyone else had told him that Il had killed Yuhon, he would have instantly accused them of trying to stir up conflict. But this is Soowon. She is nine, and something had shattered her calm demeanor completely. She has no motivation to lie, and Joodoh somehow doubts that dependable Soowon would come to this awful conclusion on something half-seen. All the pieces of her behaviour over the last few days fall together. There is a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realizes that he believes her.

   Yonghi is paler now than she was a minute ago, and her eyes flash with some indescribable emotion.

  “Captain Joodoh. My daughter is terribly ill. See that no one disturbs us in my chambers and do not speak of what you have seen here to anyone. You are dismissed.”

   Her tone still has not changed but faced with the ice in her expression, Joodoh can do nothing but bow and exit. He closes the door behind him and takes up a familiar position in the corridor.

* * *

 

   He is still there hours later, when the sun has set and the lamps are lit everywhere but inside the room that he guards. It is quiet. He is wondering whether the two of them have fallen asleep when the door creaks open. Soowon peers out at him, and makes a beckoning motion with her hand. He follows her into the dark room. The light of the new moon is visible through the window and it faintly illuminates the woman and the girl. They are both watching him as he gingerly takes four steps into the room and stops a respectful distance away.

   “Do you believe her?” Yonghi asks quietly, now sounding unbearably tired.

   “…Yes.”

   “Will you help her, then?”

   “Anything for the daughter of General Yuhon.”

    A faint, sad smile crosses Yonghi’s face and she lays her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. After a long moment, Soowon meets his eyes and chills run down his spine again.

    “You will help me, Joodoh?”

    “Yes, I swear it.”

    “That is good. For I must avenge my father and take the throne that should have been his and I cannot do it alone.”


	2. Chapter 2

_The scene: a body, a coffin, a child, the sea of people dressed in mourning white. They blur together into a fog, shifting and fluttering in the wind, hushed murmurs and tiny sobs barely audible. It is a simple funeral, typical in all ways but one: there is no priest presiding over the ceremony. There are only the mourners, the tomb, and the child._

_The ground is white as well; yesterday’s snow lies in trampled smears upon the frozen ground. The sky is a dingy grey. It is not bitterly cold but the chill wind bites at exposed noses and fingers with a stubborn fury. It does not snow but the sun is gone, hidden behind the clouds. Lost amidst a sea of white, the child feels like the sun: stifled, forgotten, and unseen._

* * *

 

There are few friends and fewer family members in the crowd of people come to pay their last respects. Most of them are court members, muttering prayers for the deceased and trying to hide their unease about the missing priest. At first they are as quiet as the stones that surround the family burial grounds. But the process is long and the people are cold and miserable. It is not long before the hum of quiet speech settles on the crowd like fog. Small gossip, polite opinions. _What a shame._ They say _. How is your family?_

As the ceremony continues, a single unanswered question hangs over the assembled masses, repeated countlessly, falling from nameless lips in murmurs. _What of the child?_ They ask, shaking their heads, _What about that poor child?_

The child stands apart, dressed fully in her hempen robes and with her hair unbound, hanging loose around her shoulders. She has grieved already, privately. Now, she is collected and gracious, taking the few condolences she receives with a small smile and polite thanks. For the most part though, well-wishers are deterred by the menacing glare of her companion. Joodoh looms above her and nearly growls at anyone who dares get too close to the girl. She does not even glance his way but he would like to imagine that she is grateful.

In truth, her behaviour is disquieting to him but that is nothing new. It would likely be more off putting if Joodoh found himself comfortable around her. Being at ease around Soowon would mean that he is comfortable with her plans, something that is decidedly untrue. But in the few months since he has seen her, she seems to have become possessed by her own plot. She is still and does not fidget- a life sized doll-her gaze too calm, calculation lurking behind her eyes. Even the smile on her face is at the exact angle where it passes for polite but not for happy, not at such an event, no. He imagines her practicing it in the mirror but dismisses the idea. The talent for courtly deception runs in her family: the smile comes to her naturally, without thought. Bitterly, Joodoh thinks that her parents should have given her away to an acting troupe and let her spend all this talent for fooling her audience on something other than treason.

 _Treason_. It is an ugly word that has been uncomfortably present in Joodoh’s mind this past winter. He wishes that he could blame these thoughts on someone,-Yonghi, perhaps, who put this idea into Soowon’s mind, or Soowon herself- but it feels disrespectful either way. He is forced to admit that the contemplation, though prompted by that night in Yonghi’s mansion, is his own. The last conversation he had with them had been on that night, and though months have passed, it still sits clearly in his mind, filling him with equal parts guilt and dread.

“ _What are you saying?! That is treasonous, my lady!”_

_“You did say you would do anything for my daughter, Captain Joodoh.”_

_Her voice was still smooth and pleasant and it terrified him more than he was prepared to admit. He had not been prepared to deal with tears, but this was thousands of times worse. And to add onto the horror he felt, Soowon was watching him with the same expression her mother wore, polite and kind. He would have preferred the frozen look of yesterday: this expression meant that she had made up her mind and gods help those who stood in her way._

_Soowon’s previous words rose into his mind and he spat, “Anything but this! Not even my loyalty to General Yuhon will prompt me to betray my king; this is madness! “_

_“Well then, Captain Joodoh, if you will not aid her, then at least do not betray her.” Yonghi’s eyes glinted in the moonlight. She turned away from him, hand raised in clear dismissal. However, Soowon still watched him and her gaze rooted him to the floor._

_“I understand if you do not understand right away, Captain Joodoh. But consider it, for my father. “ Her crack in her voice was nearly imperceptible, but in the quiet of the room it sent a jolt through Joodoh’s heart. “When you return to the palace, say hello to Yona and Hak from me.” With that, she too turned away, leaving Joodoh to steal out of the room after an agonizing moment of indecision._

_He returned to Hiryuu palace to take his place as the Sky General as he knew he would become. Yona cried when he told her Soowon would probably not be returning to the palace for a while, but her tears did not last long. With little hands balled into fists, she declared that she would go write a letter to her cousin right away._

_“She must be very sad. And Aunt Yonghi, too. I’m going to go help!”_

_Joodoh found himself watching her father’s face for a reaction. He did not get one beyond a loving smile at his daughter, nothing to support Soowon’s claim but nothing to deny it either._

_As the General of the Sky Tribe, Joodoh gained new insight into the functioning of Kouka under its new king and new foreboding for the future of his country. With each new meeting, with every treaty to calmly –feebly- give up land rather than standing and fighting Joodoh felt a knot of despair curl tighter around his insides. It had not even been a year since Il’s coronation and already the Five Tribes were suffering. He could not assign these last decisions to inexperience: they were all too in line with Il’s pacifistic nature. But kindness alone could not uphold a country!_

_He had just left a meeting of the Five Generals, seething from the inaction that had once again been chosen when the news had come, in the form of a messenger, a panting stick of a boy. King Il, with his eternally patient smile, appeared by Joodoh’s side just as the messenger blurted out what he had been sent to say. Two hours later found Joodoh once again galloping towards Yonghi’s mansion, this time with the king’s orders in his mind._

He arrives too late. All he can do is attend the funeral, standing as the growling shadow of the tiny, orphaned child who does not shiver in the biting wind.

 

* * *

 

Later, the ceremony completed, Joodoh joins the girl in her rooms, already stripped of comfort to prepare for mourning. He notices the hems of her robes are still wet from the snow and underneath the beige fabric of her sleeves, the barely perceptible shaking of her fingers. His heart is heavy at the fact that he will likely hurt her further with the edict that he carries. It does not matter at this moment whether he supports her plans or not. She is a newly orphaned child and he steels himself before reciting the formal words. They feel like honeyed lead on his tongue in the huge, empty room, with no one but a ten-year old girl to hear them.

“With the death of your lady mother, you are left alone without a guardian. Your uncle, the king, has offered to take you in. He can give you a place and a home amongst his immediate family in the palace, to oversee your education and prospects. You would be like a daughter to him. “

Soowon must have been prepared for this but a minute expression of shock and –was that _fear?_ It could not have been- passes over her face. The guilt hits Joodoh like a punch to the gut and he leans from foot to foot, unsure of what to say next. Soowon’s quiet voice saves him from trying to formulate an unscripted sentence without the royal orders guiding him.

“It is not really an offer, is it? Even if I were to say no, you would still take me to Hiryuu Palace to be kept _safe_ and out of sight and to be married off conveniently.”

Joodoh can not answer that, not becaue it is not true, but because the scenario where Soowon resisted the summons had not, as of yet, occurred to him. She offers him a tiny smile when he lets his surprise show.

“I am not saying no, silly Captain Joodoh—no, you are General Joodoh now. That would make my life and your job harder than they need to be. But I will be insisting on the traditional mourning period for my mother and my father. Tell the king when we arrive.”  
            With that, she picked up a hand bell and rang it twice, sweeping out of the room with her mother’s elegant gait.

 _How can a ten year old be this cryptic?_ Joodoh wondered. She had once again been too calm. It honestly should not have been surprising anymore but Joodoh still caught himself missing the exuberant child he had trained not six months ago. She had brightened any room with her presence, but she was gone, replaced with this quietly calculating doll. Now, it felt like the air crackled with electricity in her wake, as if awaiting a lightning strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still trying to catch my footing in writing these characters so chapters take a bit of time. Thank you for your patience!


	3. Chapter 3

_The scene: a maid, a door, a girl, the sunlit, walled courtyards of the palace. Within the walls, the colors are blinding: flower gardens in full bloom and the bright robes and parasols of fashionable court ladies trying to outshine one another. Behind the door, however, the colors are muted and the décor stoic. The room could be used as a model for proper mourning procedures: no unnecessary frivolity can be found in any corner._

_The days have gotten longer, and heavy curtains drape across the windows to keep the sun’s rays out. The girl has retreated to her innermost quarters, surrounded by yards and yards of brocade, keeping the room eternally dim. So cocooned away from the world, the girl feels like the rooms: stoic, stifled, and dark._

* * *

 

Princess Yona is pacing the corridor outside the door again, the soft tapping of her little feet against the wood quick and anxious. In the last month, she has come at least once every three days, hoping for a glance of her beloved cousin perhaps, or for a friendly smile. Eubin watches her shadow through the curtained windows. Poor child, so alone in this gorgeous palace. She must have been ecstatic to learn of her cousin’s coming, even with the tragedy surrounding it. But instead of the warm embrace and endless energy she was accustomed to from Soowon’s previous visits, she received a closed door and complete silence.

To the little girl’s credit, she does not push. She had been told by her father that her cousin is in mourning, and as a child that also lost a mother, Yona has bravely been respecting her cousin’s isolation. Each time she comes, she knocks only once, asking how Soowon is and whether she would leave her chambers today. Sometimes she brings little gifts, pretty feathers or pieces of fruit. It is endearing and pitiful at the same time.

Eubin has come to striking up small conversations with the child in the doorway. She is under strict orders from her own little lady to not allow anyone inside, but Yona seems perfectly willing to speak from outside. With her status as princess, Yona could easily overturn any of Soowon’s orders- the fact that she does not wins her many points in Eubin’s eyes. Now if only her father hadn’t…

The conversations are never very long or very substantial-Eubin hears about Yona’s hair or about her favourite fairy tale of the day- but the girl always ends them by asking Eubin to tell Soowon to please cheer up soon. Luckily, she never asks what Soowon is doing. If she did ask, Eubin would have acquired quite the list of lies, and to her own princess! Yet she could not answer truthfully without bringing suspicion down upon her lady. What Soowon does during this time of day is sleep.

Since coming to the palace two months ago, Soowon’s daily schedule has become an intricate dance of deception, and as her personal maid, Eubin is responsible for keeping it concealed and running smoothly. The girl rises at an ungodly hour, over an hour before sunrise, and disappears into the city. She had discovered the network of corridors hidden behind wall panels, sometimes used by cleaning maids, when she was very young. Eubin believes it must have been built as an emergency escape for the royal family all those years ago. Back when her father was alive, Soowon could openly leave through the gates. But now, with the illusion of mourning to be upheld, the tunnels are an integral part of her outings. She returns several hours later, after bustle of the court’s breakfast, slipping back into her room and promptly falling asleep.

The child has two sets of clothing that she wears on these outings, and these are kept especially secret. They are the robes of a young boy, of the merchant class perhaps. Striped grey linen, tied low on her waist, under a dark blue overcoat. With her hair down and none of the makeup that is already expected of her – the child is ten, Eubin thinks sourly, there is no need for such extravagance! – she appears sufficiently androgynous that the male clothing is enough to sell the look. Soowon had tried to make the clothing herself but after several days of no progress and bleeding fingers, she acquiesced to accepting aid from one of the seamstresses that had accompanied them from Yonghi’s home.

In truth, many of the little lady’s escapades would be impossible without the aid of the small entourage that had come with her to join the royal household. Sewing maids, cleaning staff, cooking staff, a few guards and stable boys, each one doing their part, however small and seemingly insignificant, to help Soowon adjust to her life here at the palace, early morning adventures included.

“That child is used to freedom,” mutters the old cook to Eubin, handing her the lady’s lunch, hours after the rest of the palace has eaten, “running around the estate all the time. This palace will choke the life out of her, just like it did to her mother.”

Yet most of the entourage is not aware quite of the extent of Soowon’s adventures. The general opinion is that she likes to wander the markets and talk to merchants, which is true! It is just that Eubin knows that the markets that Soowon prefers sometimes run on the darker side, and that many of her favourite merchants sell information.

The escapades would worry Eubin more if she was not painfully aware of her lady’s capabilities. She has accompanied Soowon into the city before, playing the role of a nervous older sister. Soowon – or Won, as she has come to be known on the streets of Kuuto- has so many friends in the dark corners of the city that she could probably walk into the seediest tavern and find a friendly face and a piece of sweat bread waiting for her. From one such adventure, Eubin remembers a scarred hulk of a man smiling toothily at them from a shadowed alleyway and throwing Soowon a candied plum.

“Your little brother’s a gift, y’know. You’d better be treating him well!” A woman who Eubin suspected ran the brothel they had just visited – “ _Why,_ my lady?” “Do you know how many interesting stories these women hear?” – chided, ruffling Soowon’s hair. Eubin never did learn exactly how Won had earned such heartfelt affection from the underbelly of Kuuto. Yet the fact remains that the child always seems far more at ease after a day running around with thugs than after any dinner with her uncle she can be coaxed into attending. Not, Eubin thinks, that King Il or the princess notice Soowon’s discomfort. It is only through her constant presence at her lady’s side that Eubin has begun to sense the child’s subtle shifts in mood.

In fact, tonight Soowon has one of these dinners to attend. She usually does not go out into town on days when she knows she needs to appear in public. However, the king had been oddly insistent about seeing her this evening and evidently she has some kind of agenda in the city that could not have been missed either, so she would go to meet with King Il and Princess Yona while sleep deprived. Soowon’s mournful demeanor is always more convincing when she was groggy anyway, Eubin thinks, laying out the clothing she would dress her lady in. The robes were fine in weave but simple in cut, the hemp fabric bleached white in full accordance with mourning tradition. So prepared, Eubin goes to undertake the arduous task of waking her lady from her tragically short nap.

* * *

 

The knock on the door comes when Eubin is tying the last knot of Soowon’s belt. It is jarring and insistent. Eubin instantly knows who it is. He has been on edge lately and it makes her want to tease him so she takes an extra minute in straightening the girl’s over-robe before going to answer the door.

Joodoh’s scowling face greets her. He has been the second shadow hounding the corridor, the far less pleasant one. Whenever he is outside, Eubin takes the time to prop open the door and raise a mocking eyebrow at him. The man is so uptight it’s ridiculous. He is also, for reasons only vaguely known to Eubin, the one that Soowon outright refuses to see, even when he comes when she is awake. However, he is also her self-appointed primary guard. He opens his mouth and Eubin prepares to laugh at him when they are both interrupted from below by a squeaky cough.

Princess Yona stands there, with her hands on her hips, looking as imperious as, well, a princess.

“Soowon! I have come to escort you to dinner!” she states, pointing dramatically at her cousin. The top of her head barely reaches Joodoh’s waist, and in her bright pink dress with her chest puffed up, she looks like an exotic bird.

“Wouldn’t that leave General Joodoh without a job?” Eubin asks her, as seriously as she can without laughing.

“Joodoh needs a vacation! Maybe then he wouldn’t be this grumpy all the time and scare Soowon.” Yona replies instantly, as if she has considered it on the walk here. Judging by Joodoh’s expression, not only has she considered it, she has also informed him about her thoughts.

There is a giggle from within the room and it is the least fabricated happy sound the girl has made in months. Soowon bows deeply to her cousin, a small but legitimate smile playing around her lips.

“With you by my side, I am truly safe from all harm, my Lady Yona,” she says, with a little hand flourish at the end. Yona grins brilliantly and grabs her cousin’s hand as the other girl steps out of the doorway. Standing together, they are so different, Yona’s chrysanthemum patterned dress standing out even more brightly in contrast of the stark simplicity of Soowon’s mourning robes. For a moment there seems to be a vast gulf between them, the princess and an ascetic, almost. But when Soowon bends her head to whisper something into her cousin’s ear and they both dissolve into giggles, they transform back into a pair of friends again. Soowon catches Eubin’s eye as she is led away by Yona, and Eubin is careful to smile encouragingly at her.

It rains that evening, strong and abrupt. Eubin opens the door to let the cool air in. She stops for a moment to admire the bright cutting colors of the camellia bushes – the pinks and greens standing out sharply in contrast with the twilit walls of the inner garden, darkened by evening and the rain. Eubin hums a little, lighting a few candles around the room. For once, she has a free moment to work on her embroidery. The little colorful bird she had begun on a piece of discarded fabric had been abandoned for far too long. With the constant duties heaped upon her as Soowon’s head maid, Eubin barely has time to sit down. To think this position had been so contested…

In truth, Eubin has not quite gotten over her feelings of both euphoric shock and dread at being chosen for such an illustrious position. It had been several years since the choice was made, and Eubin is still astounded at her own luck.

Eubin’s aunt had served Lady Yonghi since the lady was a young girl – that was how Eubin had gotten into service with the royal family to begin with. But it was not her aunt that had presented Eubin as a candidate to Lady Yonghi. It had been Soowon herself, then just five years old. Soowon had inexplicably taken a shine to Eubin and followed her around incessantly. A high-ranking embroidery maid at the time, Eubin’s duties had taken her all over the estate. But Yuhon’s child was safe anywhere in his house and knew it; it was all a great adventure to her. Eubin quickly got used to large, clever eyes watching everything she did and the unending questions about everything from the size of her stitches to Eubin’s favourite snack. In hindsight, it was laughable how quickly Soowon had wrapped Eubin around her little finger.

After a few months of having her steps dogged, Eubin was summoned to begin training for the position of head maid, alongside three other candidates. She was the youngest of the four by at least ten years, both in actual age and in experience. Yet it was Eubin that was chosen. It had not won her friends amongst the older members of the household, but she did not have much time to spend with them regardless. Her new duties quickly took over her life and she gained boundless respect for Yonghi’s head maid, who did twice as much twice as quickly. The woman was now back at Yonghi’s mansion, overseeing the household until Soowon came of age.

With the tumultuous changes in the life of the royal family, Eubin sometimes wonders if it would have been better to refuse the position and remain in blissful ignorance in the embroidery departments. Her position as Soowon’s head maid makes her the girl’s closest and most trusted servant. And with that come the secrets, the plots, the conspiracies…

Eubin shakes her head and returns to her bird. She needs to empty her head from the constant worries, if only for an hour. She loses herself in the stitching, blue-black feathers taking shape under the needle.

There is movement in the open door. Eubin looks up to see that night has fallen completely. She quickly returns her stitching to the drawer and goes to the door.

As soon as Eubin catches sight of her lady, she senses that something is wrong. There is a tightness to Soowon’s shoulders despite her airy smile as she gently tries to disentangle Yona’s arms from around her waist.

“But Soowon, are you sure you don’t want me to sleep by you tonight? I’ve missed you! “ Yona cajoles, refusing to be dislodged.

“Thank you Yona, but I need to spend this last night alone before…” Soowon’s smile crumples slightly and Yona takes that as a cue to readjust her grip. Eubin’s heart rises into her throat. If Soowon cannot even maintain her façade for Yona, who has always cheered her up, then she is minutes away from a shutdown.

“Princess Yona,” says a gruff voice from the hallway, “We must return to your father; he wanted to read to you tonight. Do not make Lady Soowon break her vigil on the last night.”

Eubin has never appreciated Captain Joodoh as much as she does when Yona steps away, pouting but thoughtful.

“Sorry, Soowon,” the little girl says after a moment, “I was being selfish. Forgive me?”

“Of course, Yona,” Soowon replies, her voice smooth and her smile steady once again. Yona retreats back to the hallway, and they hear Joodoh begin to lead her away. Eubin shuts the door behind them, muffling the sound of the rain in the garden, before turning to the girl.

Soowon is stiff, her hands balled into fists.

“My uncle told me that my time is up,” she forces out between gritted teeth, “The one hundred days of mourning for my mother are over. There is no reason to persist in this stubborn grief anymore.”

“Surely the king did not say that?” The gentle king Il would never be so harsh with anyone, especially not his grieving niece. The niece he himself had orphaned….Eubin’s head still hurt when she tried to imagine an Il that was capable of murder. It was much easier to come to terms with the absentminded king that kept giving away their land and depleting their taxes. Her own home village in the Sky tribe had been struggling to meet the new tax rates: Eubin had been discreetly sending her mother fabric and shoes for her younger siblings, filched from the overflowing royal wardrobe departments.

            “No, no he did not. He was kind about it, as expected,” Soowon agrees, shaking her head bitterly, “He said that I will resume my lessons shortly and be presented in court. I will retain the rank of princess, you know, though my future husband will not be considered in line for the throne.”

Her eyes glint for a moment with what Eubin wants to call dark amusement before dulling again. She lapses into silence and Eubin takes the moment to guide her into the innermost chamber.

            “I’m not ready,” Soowon finally whispers, barely audible,“It’s been eight months and five days but when I look at him, all I can see is the sword he held when he...”

It is times like these, Eubin thinks, when Soowon does not need a co-conspirator. For that’s what Eubin is: covering for Soowon during her escapades, hiding anything that required hiding, routing well-meaning relatives… No, what Soowon needs right now is a mother and Eubin, while old enough, is woefully under qualified for the role. Behind the forced stillness of her face, Soowon’s eyes are wide and frightened, obvious to anyone who has spent as much time around her as Eubin has. The girl’s prized self-control is fracturing.

Suddenly one of Princess Yona’s recent stories comes to Eubin’s mind. She grabs a blanket from the bed and throws it over Soowon’s head, the dark quilted fabric standing out starkly against the blankness of her robes. Soowon blinks at her from under her bangs, shocked out of her spiraling despair.

“Yona told me you did this for her when she was sad. She talks to me when you’re asleep sometimes, don’t look so startled. Now, I am going to go and ask the sewing maids to locate the rest of your wardrobe: I think we left it in their department. Try to rest for now.”

With that, Eubin turns and walks out, drawing the curtain around the inner quarters as she goes. Before the heavy fabric obscures her from view, she sees Soowon standing there, staring emptily at the floor, the blanket drooping from one shoulder.

Truthfully, Eubin stands outside the curtain for quite a while longer, listening for any sounds that rise over the pounding of the rain against the stone tile of the roof. There are none. Eubin is certain that if she were to pull the curtain back, Soowon would be standing in the same place, half covered by a dark quilt. Eubin sighs and begins to make her way to the sewing quarters. It is time for them to leave this austere stronghold and return to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the OC narration does not put anyone off. She will be a recurring character. Next chapter: Hak, finally


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: a discussion of dysphoria

_The scene: horses, riders, banners, the wide courtyard filled with movement and sound. The city below is buzzing with excitement. There is to be a council of the five Generals. As delegations from all over Kouka gather in the capital, everyone readies for the drama and festivities that always come with these events._

_During the reign of King Junam, councils of the five Generals were biannual events. King Junam was always on the move and his Generals were both his advisors and the chief enforcers of his royal will. But since his death and the ascension of his younger son, the councils have slowed and finally stopped. But now, after nearly a two year pause, King Il was finally calling the generals of the five tribes together, not to defend the country, but to splinter it further._

 

* * *

 

Despite their capital being closest to Hiryuu Castle, the Wind Tribe delegation is last to arrive. The Water delegation has been present for almost a week. Earth and Fire arrived within a day of one another as well. But the council cannot begin without all five generals in attendance. The traditional feasts, however, can and do begin and as a result the palace is even busier than usual.

When the Wind Tribe delegation is spotted approaching Kuuto, the entire castle breathes a sigh of relief. Now the actual council can begin and General Geuntae will stop bothering the Palace Guard (and General Joodoh). Eubin, however, is slightly apprehensive. With the Wind Tribe delegation comes a fearsome power, one she is not sure she wants to tangle with: the princesses’ old friend and fellow hellraiser, Hak. When Hak is present, the three children somehow manage to get into even more trouble than they do separately. It defies logic that three are harder to keep an eye on than one, but Eubin knows from experience that it is so.

By the time the Wind Tribe banners finally appear in the palace courtyard, Yona is faintly vibrating with excitement. King Il awaits Mundeok inside the palace, but Yona had insisted on running out to greet her favourite general and also her friend as they arrive and had dragged her cousin with her.

Despite being tall enough to see over the railing, Yona has convinced Joodoh to lift her so she can wave at Mundeok, riding at the very front. Joodoh looks hilarious holding a child in his ceremonial armor but his grip on her is firm and Eubin is not worried at all about him dropping her. Joodoh is possibly her equal in child watching at this point and with Yona nearing the age of eleven, Eubin herself can’t really carry her anymore.

Yona gives an excited squeak and her waving doubles in intensity. By the dip in Joodoh’s eyebrows and the sudden shift in his stance, Eubin guesses that her wiggling has also increased.

 “Look it’s Hak, look! Hi Hak!” she chirps happily as the boy in question dismounts and comes running up the steps of the balcony.

“My greetings to you, princess,” he says, bowing deeply. Then, before Eubin’s eyebrows leave her forehead at the unexpected formality, he grins and follows up with, “You’re looking as ugly as ever.”

Eubin can see Mundeok turning purple with mixed exasperation and embarrassment and bites back a smile. Yona is not one to let an insult slide, however, and leans over from where she is still perched on Joodoh’s hip and clocks Hak over the head with her tiny fist. The two of them grin at each other, content in their familiar feuding.

There is a gentle laugh from behind Eubin. “Wow, Hak, that was a beautiful greeting. The bow was perfectly executed. Did you practice?”

Hak looks faintly confused for a moment and peers into the shadows where Eubin stands with her charge. Then his eyes widen as he looks up…and up.

“…That is so unfair,” he finally mutters.

Soowon smiles and takes a few steps forward, taking care to stay under the shade of the roof. Eubin understands Hak’s sentiment. It’s still very odd to look her charge in the eye. During the last year, Soowon has shot up like a weed and shows no signs of stopping yet. Eubin has no guesses as to how tall Soowon will end up being when she’s finally done growing, but right now she towers over Hak by almost a head.

Yona indicates her wish for personal mobility by wiggling harder and quickly is back on the ground. Together, the three friends are an even odder group that they used to be. Soowon, awkwardly lanky, the elegant posture of a court lady already present in her bearing, clashes delightfully with the dust-covered Hak who still looks as much a child as tiny, exuberant Yona. But when they join hands and run back into the palace without a backwards glance, it seems that nothing has changed between them.

 

* * *

 

With Hak present, Eubin doesn’t see quite as much of her lady as she would during a usual week. Soowon’s escapades into town are on pause for the moment- apparently, with all these people in the castle, she can get plenty of information from the kitchens. Eubin recognizes that as an excuse, more for Soowon’s own sake. Eubin herself would be content if Soowon never went into Kuuto at night again. She is growing: it is harder for her to don her Won persona and look believable. But in truth, right now it is Hak who is holding Soowon in Hiryuu Castle. She has missed him and will not squander these few precious days that she, Yona, and he have together.

But while the three of them are off entertaining one another, Eubin enjoys some quality embroidery time. She is currently working on a robe that her little sister will wear for her wedding. Eubin herself will not be able to attend the ceremony but she hopes that at least some work of her hands can contribute to her sister’s happiness.

The robe is what she is busy with one day when she hears the pounding of small feet on wood and Yona bursts into the room alone and in tears. Eubin automatically stands to receive the crying child and pulls her into a comforting embrace.

“S-something happened to Soowon!” Yona gasps, her hair disheveled and her eyes puffy, “We were playing and she j-just fell. Hak is taking her to the infirmary b-but—“ Ice fills Eubin’s chest and without another word she lifts her skirts and runs as fast as she can in the direction of the infirmary without looking back.

Now that she thinks about it, Soowon has been a little off all day. There had been a certain tightness around her eyes during her dancing lessons and afterward she had disappeared behind the curtains of her inner chamber for much longer than usual, ordering Eubin not to follow with a glance. Eubin could remember several other days when Soowon’s presence felt slightly off kilter, but on every such occasion Soowon had plead exhaustion and retired early. She definitely knew how to take advantage of her own reputation as having inherited her mother’s frailty, after all. But today, with Hak present, Soowon evidently could not miss out on an opportunity to spend time with him.

Eubin catches up to Hak a corridor away from their mutual destination. Soowon is motionless in Hak’s arms and her chest rises with breaths that are far too shallow. She is much too tall for Hak to carry comfortably but he seems to be managing admirably-- her feet hover a couple inches off the floor and her head is well supported against Hak’s shoulder. Eubin knows she herself would not be able to lift the girl so she leaves Hak to it with a nod and runs ahead to warn the infirmary.

After setting Soowon down on the prepared cot, Hak’s whole body sags. His face is calm but his eyes betray an uncharacteristic inner turmoil. Eubin lays a hand on his shoulder and draws him outside so the doctor can work in peace. Hak is no longer the age where his presence in the women’s infirmary is considered acceptable.

They stand outside the door for a few moments in tense silence. Then Eubin sighs and turns to her stoic companion.

“You did well to carry her here, Hak. I got the gist of things from Yona but would you mind telling me what exactly happened?”

Hak sighs and rubs a hand across his face in a weary gesture. “It was my fault. They were watching me practice for that tournament that’s coming up. I knew Soowon has been training with Joodoh so I suggested she spar with me a little.” He pauses and Eubin stares at him incredulously.

Hak is stronger than most grown men. She knows that Mundeok would not allow any student of his to be anything less than perfectly in control of themselves during a spar. And despite Soowon’s hard won lessons with Joodoh – getting permission to continue them had been the closest she had come to an argument with her uncle – she is definitely not an opponent that Hak needs to fight recklessly against.

Hak catches Eubin’s stare and shakes his head, voice rising slightly. “But I swear, I didn’t even hit her! She is not bad at all but I wouldn’t spar against her seriously, especially when she’s wearing those ridiculous skirts. She just…stopped, gasped, and fell. And I don’t know why!” He sounds genuinely distressed and Eubin knows she believes him. But her worry for her lady is still turning her insides into knots.

Luckily, they do not have wait long. An assistant pokes her head out of the infirmary and gestures to Eubin.

“She’s awake…it was not serious,” the girl whispers, glancing nervously at Hak who watches them with a serious expression.

Eubin nods and walks back over to the boy. He averts his eyes when she catches them so she stops a few steps away and smiles at him.

“Do not worry. She seems to be healthy—it was just a fainting spell.” Hak does not look convinced but Eubin really does not want him standing around here for the rest of the day. It would be awkward, to say the least. So she presses on. “I have a favor to ask of you. I left Yona alone in Soowon’s quarters. Could you go find her and tell her that Soowon is alright but that she will need to rest for the rest of the day?” The implication of keeping Yona occupied and away from her cousin is understood on both sides. Hak nods, seemingly satisfied with this duty, and leaves.

Soowon is sitting up on the cot, a thin sheet covering her bare shoulders when Eubin enters the little curtained-off corner. She’s staring down at her hands, perfectly still. The nurse standing by the bed beckons Eubin over and places what looks to be half a roll of cut up bandages in Eubin’s hand.

“It was these. She had them wrapped far too tightly around her chest and they were constricting her breathing,” the nurse says, her expression never once wavering from politely distant. Eubin instantly likes this woman, sensing that she will not pry any further. Indeed, the nurse just bows to Soowon, nods to Eubin, and sweeps back into the main room, carefully neatening the hanging curtains.

Eubin sits carefully on the cot and waits for Soowon to speak. Something like this could be mistaken for a fashion fad gone too far but several things do not add up. Firstly, Soowon has never shown even the slightest interest in fashion beyond its practical uses. Second, Soowon is just thirteen and while her body has started maturing, it is nowhere near noticeable under all the clothing she wears.

It is a while before Soowon speaks. Her hands are twisting the blanket and mechanically straightening the fabric again.

“I must have scared Hak and Yona,” she muses with an empty smile, “I will need to apologize to them for the trouble.” Her eyes flick from the blanket to the bandages that Eubin holds in her hand and she heaves a tiny sigh. The smile falls from her face and it is silent again.

“It is…difficult to explain,” she finally says, softly, “ Some days I am fine, and wearing these clothes and my dancing lessons and the powder on my face feel normal and natural. But there are days when I _cannot_ be in… in this body, I suppose. It makes me feel…wrong.”

Eubin watches her silently. She does not know how to reply to this, or exactly what Soowon is saying. But Soowon is actually talking about herself for what feels like the first time in years and Eubin knows better than to interrupt.

Soowon looks up with a look that’s almost desperate. She seems to want to be understood.

“It’s like there are days when I am Won, but not pretending to be him. I really am him! I want to wear my hair down and tie my belt lower, and my voice and _these_ ” she makes a vague gesture in the direction of her chest “make me feel sick. The bandages help with that, so I wear them.”

Eubin looks at the bandages and again at her charge’s face. The child is tense, abject misery in her eyes. She expects disbelief, Eubin realizes. But Soowon has trusted her enough to tell her this and she will not betray that trust, even if she does not understand.

“What you do is, as always, your business. But you should not use the bandages any more; they clearly aren’t safe. If it pleases you, I will ask the sewing departments if they have a undergarment for figure correction in your size. We can alter it so it fits you like you need it to,“ Eubin says at last, thinking of recent fads. She is fairly sure that figure correction never went out of style and that such a garment can be obtained without any suspicion.

Soowon’s eyes are wide and relieved but she still shrinks a little when she asks, “You will not tell anyone of this, will you Eubin?”

“My Lady, I have been keeping your secrets for years now. Not a soul will know that which you do not wish known. Please tell me anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable,”

Soowon’s nose scrunches slightly, “Actually, there is one thing. On days such as these, could you not address me as My Lady?”

“Of course, your Highness,” Eubin replies and is rewarded with a small smile. After a moment, an idea comes to her mind.

“Will you go out tonight, your Highness?” she asks quietly, glancing at the curtains to make sure the nurse has not returned.

Soowon raises one blonde eyebrow. “I was sure that you would forbid me from leaving my rooms after this,” she replies, her tone slightly wry. The timid edge it had before is thankfully gone.

“I am sorely tempted to keep you in bed for a week. But if it will make you feel better to be Won today, then I will cover for you.”

Soowon hesitates for a moment before inquiring, “I will not be missed?”

“No, you have definitely been excused from any more social interaction for the day. After your collapse, everyone expects you to be resting—which, of course, would be the sane thing to do.”

“Eubin, don’t scold me. It was _your_ idea for me to go out today,” the child replies, laughing slightly. It is good to hear the laugh again. Soowon is slightly frightening when she is serious.

There is a tiny rustle of fabric and an assistant walks in. Eubin recognizes the girl as one of the seamstresses that had travelled with them from Yong-hi’s estate. Good for her, having found a way to move up in ranks in this new home.

Together, Eubin and the assistant bundle Soowon back into her overrobe and escort her back to her rooms. When she enters her inner chambers, Soowon looks almost jubilant to escape the colorful skirts she still wears. She quickly dons a simple white robe which she ties low on her waist with a thin sash. It bags appropriately, concealing her figure completely. Then she collapses onto her bed with a little sigh. Before long, she is asleep, clearly exhausted.

Eubin smiles at her sleeping charge, and leaves to go raid the sewing departments once again. She also needs to find Joodoh and tell him of today’s excitemet before Yona does so in her childish, over-imaginative manner. After another day of dealing with King Il and General Geun-tae at the same time, poor Joodoh might actually start to go grey if shocked too badly.

Tonight, Soowon—no, _Won_ – will go and listen to all the stories that the numerous and diverse visitors to Kuuto have left in various seedy taverns. Tomorrow, she will make her apologies to her worried friends, and resume the farce of palace life. Waiting with a candle for Soowon’s return from the city, Eubin finds that she has grown used to this way of life. It is not unpleasant to consider that this may be the form of Soowon’s planning for the next few years. Eubin can almost forget that this whole plan is based in treason.

 

* * *

 

The next day, the council comes to a close with the decision made to cede a great chunk of Water Tribe land to the kingdom of Sei rather than confront them about their suspicious activity along the border. It is a terrible tactical choice for a new monarch that will definitely put Kouka in an increasingly vulnerable position. Eubin cannot imagine any of the more war-like Generals agreeing to this foolishness. When Eubin brings this information back from the kitchens, where it is being hotly debated, Soowon’s eyes narrow and a cold smile appear on her face.

“This is it. He will not be able to wait any longer now.”

She refuses to elaborate on her comment but Eubin knows that if it is something important, she will find out before long.

That evening, Soowon’s fourth rereading of her favourite treatise is interrupted by a familiar, loud knock. As expected, it is Joodoh. He has not yet changed out of his armor and he stands awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, looking around, before stepping inside.

Soowon does not rise from her perch on the chaise or put her book down. Despite Joodoh’s standing form looming over her, she suddenly looks incredibly imposing when she glances up and utters, “Well?”

Joodoh takes a deep breath and lowers to one knee, bowing his head.

“If allowed to continue as he is, King Il will eventually tear this country apart,” Joodoh speaks as if delivering his own death sentence, measured and slow, “He will not listen to the councils of his generals.”

“So, General Joo-doh, what will you do?” Soowon asks him, her fingers hovering over the pages of her book. Her voice has gained an edge of forced nonchalance and her foot twitches in what Eubin recognizes as a nervous tick. Her words from earlier come back to ring in Eubin’s ears. This is it.

His throat moves in a long swallow, and he kneels fully, pressing his head to the floor. “Soowon, daughter of Yuhon, if you will still have me, please let me aid you. Help me save this country.”

Soowon closes her book with a barely audible thump and rises to walk over to him.

“I have been waiting for you, General Joodoh.” She touches his shoulder lightly as he sits up and pauses there with her eyes closed, shoulders moving in a sigh.

Eubin lets out a breath she did not realize she was holding. Joodoh has been a wildcard in their plans for longer than had been comfortable. But with him finally swayed onto her side, Soowon has gained a powerful ally and the support of the royal guard and the Sky Tribe army. It is a massive step forward for their cause. Yet all Eubin can feel is weary acceptance for something that has always felt inevitable.

 


	5. Chapter 5

_The scene: a man, a kettle, a small café in a decent part of the city, not far from the market and within walking distance from the university. As a result, it is a common sight to see students in their plain robes and with bags under their eyes muttering to themselves over a cup of tea or a plate of dumplings. The owner knows them by name and gives sound advice as well as free refills._

_The man currently watching the kettle is not the owner. This man would have been found furiously writing at one of the tables, specifically at the one by the window, only two weeks ago. Now, he wears an apron and watches the water, as if the helpless fury he feels will make the water boil faster. If only he had never shown that essay to that over-zealous man with a printing press..! All those years of endless study, the hard-won patronage of the village noble—all gone to waste now. If not for the café owner, he would have been forced to return to his village in shame. But this, expelled from the university for treasonous thoughts, this only proved his point further. This king would bring about the end of the country, and yet it seems that everyone is trying to ignore the coming fall._

* * *

 

“Mister, you are making a scary face at that teapot,” is the first indication Keishuk gets that he is no longer alone in the café. He had not heard the jingling of the little chimes that hang over the doorway. Evidently he had gotten lost in his thoughts again. At least the kettle hasn’t boiled over.

There is some kid sitting at the nearest table staring at him with wide eyes. This is the time of day when the café is mostly empty—a quiet moment in the late afternoon before the flood of students comes pouring down the street. This kid looks a couple years too young to be a student at the university, though. He seems to be about fourteen, lanky, and dressed in a blue over robe with a tunic of unbleached linen. His hair falls in a messy ponytail down his shoulder. Maybe a merchant’s son? In any case, it’s Keishuk’s off hour and the café is technically closed. He’s not dealing with any customers right now.

As usual, the water boils the moment Keishuk takes his eyes off of it and he moves to take the kettle off the fire and pours it into the teapot with some of his personal favourite leaves. When he turns back around, wiping his forehead with his hand, the kid is still watching him. Keishuk scowls at him and is about to shoo him out of the store when he pipes up again.

“You’re Keishuk, right?” the boy asks, tilting his head to the side.

Keishuk stops and now he is the one staring. “That would be me. Who wants to know?” he finally responds.

“I do! I have been looking for you,” says the boy, bouncing a little bit in his seat. He reaches into his tunic and folds out what looks to be a folded piece of paper. When he unfolds it, Keishuk feels all the blood rush from his face. The characters at the top are far too familiar. It’s the pamphlet that is responsible for the sad state of his life right now.

“No, no, no, not this again. That damn thing has already taken everything from me. What more do they want from me!? I am sorry for writing it, I will apologize publicly if that’s what you want, just leave me alone!” His back hits the wall and he realizes he has been backing away unconsciously.

The kid looks believably confused. “Apologize? This is a brilliant piece of writing—I have been trying to find you ever since I read it!”

Oh, a fan. This is a first. Keishuk relaxes and comes out of the corner he has backed himself into, a little sheepish.

“Believe me, that essay is not worth the grief. It’s definitely not safe to have it on you—what if someone finds it?” he says, lowering himself into the chair opposite the boy.

“Don’t worry Mister Keishuk, I’ll be really careful. But please, tell me what gave you this idea! Do you really think Kouka is doomed?” The kid’s eyes are actually shining and under such clear adoration, Keishuk cannot help but puff his chest out a little. Still, his recent experiences have made him cautious and he glances at the empty street before continuing in a low but impassioned voice.

“The fact that no one has written something on the subject is appalling. It should be obvious to everyone that the policies made by King Il are literally tearing this country apart from within. There is no confidence in Kouka’s rin as a currency and as a result, the economy is slowing to a crawl. Meanwhile, taxes rise to pay for the appeasement of outside countries. The people are restless, struggling with the tax rates, and the neighbouring countries look at us with power-hungry eyes. And they should! We are weak and getting weaker and the king will do nothing to stop it!

He has given so much our land away in the last six years. Tell me, is this not a mockery of what King Junam, may he rest in peace, strived so long for? When instead of enforcing respect of our borders, King Il outlaws war! Outlaws war! What kind of world does he live in? Now is not the time to be passive and frightened, indeed, there is never such a time! A country should always show strength and self-respect, and King Il, by his actions, has shown that he does not understand this. Thus, he is not the man that should be leading this country! “

When he pauses, it is suddenly very quiet in the café. Keishuk’s chest heaves with breaths and he realizes his voice had gotten quite a bit louder from the terse undertone that he began in. From the familiar burning in his throat, he thinks he might have instinctually slipped into his well-practiced debating tone. He should not have started to talk about this. Last time he had too much to say about this topic, it had gotten his entire life turned upside down. He glances up, just about expecting royal guards to have condensed out of thin air. But he is still all alone in the store with the boy.

The boy looks star-struck.

“Wooooah! That was an amazing speech, Mister Keishuk! You’re as amazing as I thought,” he cries, clapping his hands together in obvious delight. Keishuk feels his face heat up and takes a large gulp of his cooling tea. Then, the chimes in the doorway jangle and the café owner pushes her way back into her establishment.

The chair scrapes against the wooden floor as the boy jumps up, bows quickly to Keishuk, and all but runs out of the door.

The owner blinks as a blue blur pushes past her, then at Keishuk sitting all alone at a table.

“Was that Won just now?” she asks.

“…Won?” Keishuk repeats dumbly, realizing that he never got the child’s name.

“Blond, about this tall, looks at you like you pulled the moon out of the sky and gave it to him?”

“That is a surprisingly accurate description,” Keishuk mumbles, thinking about the starry-eyed gaze of his listener.

The owner laughs and makes her way to start the ovens.

“He’s an interesting kid. Runs errands for me sometimes. His favourite snacks are the lotus cookies– next time he comes in and I’m not here, give him one and he’ll love you forever.”

Keishuk can only nod. A favourite snack was a respectable reason for a merchant’s son visiting a tiny café. But this Won knew Keishuk’s name. Even more interestingly, he had been carrying around a copy of the essay that had gotten Keishuk branded as a dissenter. There is definitely something off about that kid. Keishuk resolves to wait and talk to him again before drawing any conclusions. Except, when Keishuk next sees Won, the conclusions more or less slap him in the face.

It is about a week and a half after their first encounter, in the painfully early hours when the café first opens. The owner has stepped out to go haggle with food vendors while they were still half asleep – she says that this strategy makes her café so affordable and popular – so Keishuk is alone, groggily sweeping the floor.

Won seems to appear out of nowhere, like last time. Keishuk stares at him and has a bizarre impulse to poke his arm and make sure that he is solid. His half-asleep mind is insisting that Won had to have wafted through the wall.

“Good morning, mister Keishuk!” the boy chirps, scoring another point against his own humanity. No one should sound that chipper this early in the morning. The sun hasn’t even risen yet.

“Hello, Won,” Keishuk mutters in response, automatically reaching for his tea cup. He needs to wake up properly to have a conversation with this kid. There are questions he wants to ask but as sleep deprived as he is, none are coming to mind.

“I brought someone to meet you, if that’s alright,” Won says, “Please say yes! She’s very eager to talk to you,”

Keishuk suddenly feels much more awake. Could it be another fan? Or another potential dissenter? In any case, he had wanted to know more about Won’s intentions and this was the perfect opportunity. So he nods slightly at the boy who instantly shoots back outside with a grin and returns quickly, dragging a young woman by the arm.

“Mister Keishuk, this is my older sister, Eubin,” he says. The woman bows. She doesn’t resemble her brother at all, her hair straight and tied into a bun. A hairstick gleams from among the dark strands, carved into a dragon with yellow stone eyes. This woman must be a fairly high-ranked palace maid. Dragons are a symbol of the royal household and no commoner may wear them if they do not work in the castle. Keishuk instantly feels a sense of faint alarm. He would like to avoid interactions with anyone from the palace if he can. The last thing he needs is word of him reaching the ears of the royals, even from the gossip of servants.

The woman smiles tiredly at him – he feels a stir of empathy and relief that he is not the only one exhausted at this hour – and speaks.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Keishuk. I serve her Highness, the lady Soowon. She has read your work and taken an interest in it and in you.”

He is doomed. A princess. A princess has noticed him. He has absolutely no hope of remaining anonymous now. He might as well leave the city tonight and become a cabbage farmer in some hamlet on the other side of the country.

“Mister Keishuk, are you alright?” He hears Won say through his despairing ruminations, “You just went really pale.”

Keishuk sends a glare Won’s way – this kid got him into this situation and has the nerve to sound amused -- and forces himself to meet the gaze of the smiling woman.

“What does your lady want with me?” he asks, hoping his voice doesn’t shake. Despite his nerves, Keishuk notices that Eubin seems to glance at Won before replying.

“Oh, just confirmation of your location. She also wanted you to have this,” She presses a folded piece of paper into Keishuk’s hand. “Now, I should be getting back. It’s hideously early, Won. I don’t know why you wanted to come _now._ ” She bows politely and exits without another word, Won following on her heels, already chattering about something new.

Keishuk stares dejectedly at the parchment. It is of surprisingly low quality for a missive from a princess. He would have expected the finest parchment and maybe a wax seal but this paper is of the quality he himself would have used for notes back at the university.

As he tries to force himself to unfold the paper he tries to recall what he knows about princess Soowon. The two princesses of Hiryuu castle never make public appearances and are not discussed often beyond vague speculations as to their beauty and marriage prospects. Keishuk seems to remember that the elder princess cannot inherit however: she is not the daughter of the king but his niece. The daughter of general Yuhon…

            Keishuk takes a deep breath and opens the letter. Two things jump out at him instantly. Her handwriting is beautiful, the characters precise and evenly spaced. The letter is neither addressed nor signed.

            As Keishuk reads, he can hear his pulse hammering in his ears. The paper falls to the table from nerveless fingers as soon as he finishes the last line. This paper is a death wish. Spelled out in the letter are details for a treasonous coup. There is no cipher, no obfuscation. Just the damning words. It is absolute madness to write something like this down, but to give it to an absolute stranger—it’s like asking for execution for treason.

If he were to report this to the authorities…It is not signed and written on parchment far too plain to be traced to the palace. Who would believe an expelled dissenter student over a princess? The only person who could be incriminated based on this is Keishuk himself for having it in his possession.

He looks over the letter again with a new eye. If he is honest with himself, under the terror, Keishuk is excited by this daringly clever recruitment method.

Four days later, he finds himself following the written instructions and making his way to the public square early in the morning. He waits at the appointed corner, glancing warily at other early risers, each going sluggishly about their own business.

Won appears at his elbow in his usual soundless manner but this time Keishuk manages to notice him before he speaks.

“I’m happy to see you,” Won smiles at him and Keishuk suddenly is hit by the fact that despite his waif-like appearance, Won is taller than he is. For some reason, he had remembered Won as much smaller than he actually was. Perhaps it is the childlike manner the boy has.

Keishuk reaches into his apron pocket and hands Won the letter he had struggled over the night before. The boy quickly hides the letter somewhere into his over robe.

“For your lady,” Keishuk says and watches Won’s smile widen a tiny amount.

“Oh, she’s not my lady; only my sister’s. But I’m sure she will be happy. I’ll make sure she gets it.”

It is a peculiar way to speak of a royal, especially coming from a supposedly merchant-class boy. Just a touch overly familiar, making the princess seem like any other normal person one could run errands for. Speaking of errands, Keishuk reaches back into his apron and brings forth a paper wrapped package.

“This is for you,” he mutters in response to Won’s questioning glance. “Open it.”

Won tears the paper open delicately with his fingertips. Then, his eyes light up.

“Lotus cookies! These are my favourites!”

“Consider it a bribe. Please do not bring any more unannounced visitors. Those kinds of shocks are not good for my heart.”

Win giggles, covering his mouth with his sleeve. “You sound like an old man!” He is already nibbling on the first cookie, looking ridiculously pleased. Then, he looks back over at Keishuk and seems to think for a second before handing him one of his own cookies. Keishuk can’t help the amused snort that comes out of him but he takes the cookie.

“Hey, Mister Keishuk, will you teach me some more about Kouka currency?” Won asks so suddenly that Keishuk chokes on his lotus cookie. Won is watching him with an already familiar starry-eyed look and Keishuk cannot help but acquiesce. They spend the next hour discussing the intricacies of consumer confidence and Keishuk almost feels like he’s back amongst the students he belongs with.

It grows into a pattern—Soowon’s letters and Won’s conversations becoming highlights of Keishuk’s otherwise painfully mundane life. For a while, Soowon only discusses theoretical government ideas with him – his suggestion about doing away with the international tariff for a time was met with less incredulity than expected - but the letters slowly change to more personal matters as time passes. She writes asking advice about political allies and also for help with her history studies. He learns about her sword training, continuing despite pressure from her uncle, and about the contingent of guards that is loyal only to Yuhon’s heir. Despite the fact that these letters could send Keishuk to the executioner’s block, it is beginning to feel like a friendly correspondence.

Then, there is Won. When he had given him the first letter, Keishuk had stayed awake at night for fear of the boy’s absentmindedness bringing the entire royal palace down upon his head. But Won has proved frighteningly competent both as a messenger and as a conversationalist. And he seems to have a sixth sense about the content of the letters themselves.

All in all, Keishuk is beginning to suspect that there is something about Won that he is missing. Sometimes Won will speak and such effortlessly formal phrases will leave his lips that Keishuk feels like he should be taking notes. There are several other little things that feel off but Keishuk tentatively writes them off as the many peculiarities of an already incredibly strange boy.

Then, one day, the mystery is resolved. The letter starts as always, replies to certain questions Keishuk had asked in the previous letter. The final paragraph, however, is an invitation. Soowon wishes to meet him personally.

Anxiety settles in Keishuk’s stomach at the news. He does not feel ready to meet a princess, even one that he has been exchanging letters with for months. How will he even get into the palace? Doubtlessly, she has thought it through. However, a quick perusal of the remaining few sentences reveals that she will tell him the plan when he goes to the meeting spot in five days time.

She will tell him. It could be a careless error, poorly chosen words. But Keishuk knows that nothing Soowon writes is ever accidental.

Suddenly, all the little details that have been bothering him fall into place. Won’s airy giggle and delicate manner of eating, the knowing look with which he hands over every letter… it all makes sense. Keishuk slams the letter down on the table, looking at the last line in incredulous wonder at how she has fooled even him, and begins to laugh.

He goes to the meeting spot without a reply letter. It is a bit of a gamble. Keishuk was sure of his theory when he had left the shop this morning but now, nearing the square, he is feeling a little nervous. There is some chance that he is wrong, after all.

Won is already there, for once. He is sitting on the stone wall with his legs dangling off the edge and Keishuk looks at him with a new eye, taking in Won’s posture and how his hands are folded in his lap, trying to quell his own sudden uncertainty.

He sits down next to Won on the wall.

“So, Lady Soowon wants me to visit her in the palace,” he says quietly, watching Won’s face closely. The boy nods, the image of sincerity. Keishuk takes a deep breath and gambles.

“Would you explain to me why our meetings here are not enough for you in this situation, Princess Soowon?” His voice is pitched so low he himself can barely hear it over the early morning bustle of citizens going about their business.

Won’s eyes widen and he whips his head around to stare at Keishuk before breaking into the widest grin he has seen yet.

“I was worried you were not going to figure it out,” he says, and suddenly his voice is pitched slightly higher, court inflections rounding the corners of his words. “ But you are as clever as I had heard. In truth, I find these meetings pleasing and would continue them if you are not opposed to it. However, if you are to be part of this movement, you must meet the other members.”

Keishuk blinks, astounded at the change in his own perception. He is hearing the voice of a court lady. But it is still Won sitting there, smiling his cheerful smile and Keishuk finds that he can still be annoyed with him, even if the boy is secretly a princess.

“I do not know how you have been wandering into the city with such regularity without supervision, but I assure you that I will not be able to sneak into the palace with the same ease,” Keishuk grumbles.

There is a laugh from his companion, genuine and surprised. “You are going to get along so well with my other two self-appointed minders. It is not as difficult to get you into the palace as you would think. All you need to do is—“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love Keishuk! He's basically a canon ghost so I got to play with him. But I got over-excited and made the chapter really long so I split it in half to finish up and polish. 
> 
> I also have to thank my dear Gray Blue Green for the economics lecture she gave me. Keishuk is smarter than I am so the help was very much appreciated.
> 
> Also the first time i posted this i somehow missed actually inserting the last 5 or so paragraphs. I have no idea how this happened or how I missed it for months but there it is now. Hopefully now chapter 6 actually makes sense!


	6. Chapter 6

_The scene: a courtyard, a crowd, the sun beaming relentlessly down upon the tiled ground. Formal robes are heavy and warm, nearly unbearable on the days when the skies are as clear as they are now. But the crowd is well practiced at bearing this lavish discomfort, consisting of nobles and those who fancy themselves their equals. Many of them are still in awe from being allowed inside the outer walls of Hiryuu palace. They were all born under its shadow and know the profiles of the steep cliffs on its perimeter by heart. The gates were closed when these people were children and opened rarely to the populace. But this new king, his arms tucked humbly behind his back, he welcomes them into the palace._

_The guards grumble on the parapets of the wall. Their king’s friendly nature makes their job so difficult sometimes. How are they to defend from assassins when the king hosts these academic gatherings every other month? They cannot search the crowd for fear of offending someone with a sharper tongue than their kindly sovereign. For all the rumors of the fearful nature of King Il, for all that he hides his family deep inside the inner palace, he is reckless with his own safety sometimes, appearing as often as he does in front of the people. He could be killed at any moment by a hand hiding a dagger in their ornate belt or by a dart disguised as a hairpin. It would be disastrous for the country: as of this moment, there is no heir to the throne. Every time he makes an appearance, the guards stick frighteningly close to his back. Yet, the gates are open…_

* * *

 

As he was instructed, Keishuk comes to the wide stone gates of the outer palace courtyard at high noon, dressed in simple, non-descript robes. The gates are open today for the king plans on giving an address about some holiday or plan for the future. Keishuk has not been keeping track of King Il’s hopeful speeches. It feels sometimes like the amount of holidays that Kuuto officially celebrates has gone up in recent years; certainly King Junam would not have opened the gates of his palace to the people so regularly.

It seems that most of the city’s nobles are here, but Keishuk sees many university issued academic robes in the crowd and shies away from them as best he can. He gets about ten steps into the courtyard before a hand lands heavily on his shoulder. Keishuk’s heart jumps into his throat at the sight of a stony-faced guard staring down at him.

“Are you the disgraced scholar?” The guard’s voice is as serious as his face and Keishuk feels all the blood drain from his face. But then, a crack runs down his stony countenance and the guard spontaneously grins at him.

“No need to look so frightened! Someone is expecting you and I am your escort. You students are all so jumpy!”

The man leads him behind a pillar and under a terrace roof. Keishuk’s heart is hammering in his chest and he tries very hard not to look around to make sure that no one has noticed. He is not particularly significant, he reasons with himself. No one cares where he is walking. The fear still makes his palms sweat, however.

He is lead through a wide sitting room and out it’s back entrance where suddenly the man pulls back a curtain and ducks into a narrow corridor, just barely wide for both of them. The guard stops then, clapping Keishuk on the shoulder again. Keishuk winces. He is going to have a bruise there later.

“Just follow this to the end and go through the door there. I must return to my post, but I will see you around, dissenter.”

With a wink, the guard’s gone before Keishuk has time to regain his wits and say anything back. Grumbling faintly under his breath to mask his rising anxiety, he makes his way down the dark, narrow corridor. He is alone in some clearly unused servant passage in the innermost royal palace. Being caught here would be death. Then again, that is true for many of his past times over the last few months. He should be getting used to it by now, this constant, looming threat of execution for treason.

He barely stops in time not to hit the dead end. Light filters in a thin ribbon from the floor so he assumes that this is an exit. Keishuk passes his hand up and down the paneled wood until he finds an indentation. He pulls on it experimentally and it slides soundlessly open. He walks through the doorway and is instantly hit in the face with heavy cloth.

As soon as he manages to free himself from what he thinks is a tapestry, Keishuk comes face to face with a sword tip and freezes. There is an angry looking man glaring down at him. He wears full ceremonial armor with dragons emblazoned on it and Keishuk only has to look at the two scabbards hanging on either side of his belt to recognize General Joodoh, the Sky Tribe General.

Before Keishuk even has time to begin to panic, there is a familiar giggle from behind his attacker.

“General Joodoh, while that was an impressively quick maneuver, I did tell you I was expecting a guest.”

Exasperation passes over the man’s face, and he gives Keishuk a mistrustful glare, but thankfully, he does sheathe his sword and turns away to bark a reply.

“Well, forgive me princess, but I thought that your guest would come through the actual door!”

He has an amazing manner of speaking, incredibly formal while also sounding like he is on the verge of strangling someone. Stowing that away for later analysis, Keishuk instead looks at his hostess and instantly does a double take.

He had been theoretically prepared for the idea that Won would look different but this is incredible. Wrapped in endless pale silk, her hair elegantly pinned up, and heavy makeup smoothing her features, the lady Soowon looks every inch the pampered princess. This image is difficult to resolve with Won, who always looked so… for lack of a better word, normal.

Behind her stands another familiar face. Eubin acknowledges him with a little smile and Keishuk takes in her attire. The colors and stylized over jacket distinguish her as a head maid. Aside from them and the fuming general, the room is empty.

Keishuk slinks into a corner seat to gather his bearings and observe. The people meeting here seem well practiced at calm discussion of high treason. The words roll off their tongue, never quite stating anything explicitly, but also not in any sort of code. Their voices are pitched normally, the exception being general’s clipped tones and sharp glances. But that may just be what he always sounds like. It still feels unprotected somehow. Keishuk resolves to find out exactly how secure this location is at a later date, when he has made the impressions he needs to on these people. It does feel kind of strange, this idea that he must impress someone he has been having cookies with every week or so, but this whole situation smells like a test. The one thing that Keishuk knows for sure about Won is that he does nothing without calculation. Soowon, then, must be the same way.

He tunes back into the conversation to find Soowon frowning faintly at her folded fan, seemingly listing through potential scenarios.

“The Water Tribe never makes any brash movements so we need not worry about resistance on their part. As long as the operation goes smoothly and without raising suspicion, Earth and Wind will also wait and see. I will likely need to prove myself to them as a ruler but that can come later.

It is Fire that will cause us problems. They have been restless and my sources tell me that there has been an increased training regimen for the Tribe’s troops recently, even with the royal mandate against having a large force amassed at any point. Any year now they will revolt, especially with that old Hiryuu delusion their generals have.” It is still odd to hear Won’s voice coming from the princess’ powder-pale face, with its courtly inflections. Even odder is the complete seriousness of Soowon’s expression. In all these months, Keishuk has rarely seen Won without his dopey grin.

Eubin hums in agreement. “Fire is powerful and they have never been happy with the Sky rule, throughout all these centuries. But what can we do about them now?”

“Maybe we can redirect Sujin’s rebelliousness into your cause…” Keishuk finally speaks up, glancing covertly at the other occupants of the room. Soowon looks at him with approval and encouragement, so even though the sullen Sky General is still scowling at him, Keishuk prepares to explain.

“Well, as you doubtlessly know, princess, as a daughter of the royal line but not the direct heir, your role is mostly to strengthen the position of the Sky Tribe by a marriage arrangement. I propose that you use this tactic to form your own alliance. Incidentally, the Fire Tribe general has two sons. Rumour has it that the older is already showing the signs of a great commander. Sujin would be overjoyed to have more influence over the royal family so he would agree to an engagement straight away. Besides, the elder son is rumored to be incredibly prudish, so there should not be any worries about the wedding night--”

At that comment General Joodoh splutters and opens his mouth. Eubin instantly clunks him on the shoulder with her fan and his seemingly instinctive response to shout everything fades into outraged mumbling. Keishuk already has a headache from this man, although if Joodoh spends as much time around this princess as Keishuk thinks he does, his fraying nerves might be excused. He could do without the yelling, however.

The princess’ reaction is to go beet red and hide her face behind her fan. Intriguing, Keishuk thinks. He didn’t think she could be visibly thrown by anything but it seems that he had been wrong.

“H-husband or not, he will not get the throne. I will be ruling this country as its sole sovereign. Otherwise, there is no guarantee that the changes we need are going to happen.” Her voice is a little muffled. She lowers the fan, still blushing furiously and continues. “But I agree that even general Sujin will not lead a rebellion against his own son and the potential g-grandchildren that would come out of a marriage. If there is the implication of returning Hiryuu’s descendants to the line of inheritance, I think that the Fire Tribe can be swayed to our side.”

Joodoh is frowning still. “You’re far too young for marriage, Princess –“ he begins and is quickly cut off by Eubin.

“Her Highness is sixteen, and should have received several marriage offers by now. It’s a miracle that your uncle has not mentioned it to you at all.”

Soowon twists the fabric of her dress between her hands.

“He…has, actually…” she finally mumbles and a faint intake of breath is heard. Keishuk is unsure which of the two it came from. “Nothing specific, just that I should start thinking about it… You know how he hates to order anyone to do anything. But it has definitely crossed his mind.”

She pauses, swallows, and continues, “If we are to go through with Mister Keishuk’s plan, we will need to see if Lord Kyo-Ga is receptive to the idea. He would have a good chance of winning my uncle’s approval, especially if I hint that I would prefer him. My uncle is kind, after all. ”

Her lips twist slightly with the last phrase and Keishuk thinks back to the pointedly vague letter that he had received from her about her own personal grudge against her uncle. He does not have the whole story here, but judging from the stony expressions of Soowon’s guardians there is something of note that occurred between them. More mysteries for later.

“But how will you get Kyo-ga to agree?” Joodoh grinds out, shooting a glare at Eubin, as if daring her to interrupt him again.

“If I mention suitors to my uncle, he will likely send out summons to those he considers eligible. From my understanding of Kang Sujin, he is not a man to pass up an opportunity such as this and the word of Kang Kyo-ga is that he is loyal to his father’s every word.”

Eubin furrows her brow. “That is all well but there may be another problem, actually. General Joodoh.”

Joodoh groans, “What?”

“You _are_ the problem. Once the news that her Highness is looking for suitors goes public, someone- and I am sure we both can guess who – is going to suggest you as a candidate. And as much as you try to deny it, you would indeed be a very good match, Sky Tribe General with Sky Tribe princess. ”

Keishuk did not think that Joodoh could look even more outraged but he manages it splendidly. For a moment, it is like steam has come out of his ears. Meanwhile, Soowon has hidden behind her fan again, shoulders shaking with hysterical giggles.

“I- but – I – she’s sixteen!” Joodoh finally forces out.

“And you are thirty one. That is only two years more than the age gap between Lord Geun-tae and his own wife.”

They descend into pointless bickering and Keishuk senses that the productive part of this meeting is over. However, this plan is Keishuk’s first big move in Soowon’s game and it goes into motion almost immediately. Joodoh is cornered by King Il and a grinning General Geun Tae two weeks later, to speak of his solitary state and of the undying loyalty of love. He fixes them with his best glare and tries not to look like he already knows that the list of dozens of bachelors currently lying on the king’s desk is pointless. The heart of this operation has made her choice already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say I am very happy with this chapter but I was also thoroughly sick of it so here it is. I am also still having trouble with consistent spelling of character names so apologies if I missed a Suwon. And now that I have caught my mistake in the previous chapter hopefully this one makes slightly more sense!


	7. Chapter 7

_Invitations to the country’s eligible noble bachelors are sent out. Elsewhere around the country, the minds of power-hungry lords stir with ambition, eyeing their sons, their estates, their prospects. This is their chance, they think, to gain favor and influence._

_The castle as a whole grits its teeth and prepares itself for the never-ending ceremony of royal courtship…_

 

* * *

 

 

Trips to the palace with Grandpa Mundeok are never mundane but this one has been especially eventful. The fact that this trip marks the end of Hak’s life as free man is a key factor, of course, but apparently agreeing to become the princess’ bodyguard is not enough for the universe because approximately a week after that whole deal is sorted out, Grandpa approaches Hak looking awkward. It has been years since there was any need for the kind of discussions that make Grandpa make that particular face, so Hak is understandably wary once he sees it. After he hears the news, he regrets not trusting his gut instinct and jumping off the balcony.

A marriage interview has been arranged, apparently. Mundeok knows that Hak has no interest in marriage yet – this is not the first time he has been dragged to one of these, after all. According to Soowon, who knows all the court gossip, he is the most exciting eligible bachelor in court. He doesn’t understand nobles at all. He doesn’t even go to court! But after he defeated Geun-tae at that tournament three years ago, he evidently won enough prestige to become a worthy prospect for many noble daughters, young as he is, and now their fathers hound him incessantly. The last two girls who had been presented to him had been older than him by half a decade at least. And Mundeok can’t just refuse to set up the interviews. The Wind Tribe has enough trouble keeping support from nobles from other tribes, not having a hereditary blood-line themselves. But that does not mean Hak has to agree to anything. Or even pay attention that often, so he can grit his teeth and bear it.

This proposal is probably one of the court advisors trying to attain status again… Although Hak is unsure what any courtier thinks he could offer in that regard. Hak may be the next Wind Tribe general, but he’s no noble. And his status as a foundling aside, he has no plans of marrying anyone any time soon. He’ll just appear as disinterested as he can at this interview, as usual, and hope that it ends quickly. Maybe he’ll personally offend another noble, what does he care? It won’t hurt Grandpa’s image then, and he himself can live without noble approval, especially now that he has sworn his life to Princess Yona anyway.

Mundeok says something about the date and location and what Hak should wear. At this point Hak has stopped paying attention. Maybe if he comes late he won’t have to listen to the matchmaker’s spiel this time. What a pain, honestly.

For all his internal complaining, Hak is washed, dressed in formal robes and at the doors of the appointed room an appropriate half an hour before the talks are to begin. He’s had an eye for propriety from a young age, even if he often chooses to ignore it. But, he reasons, it’s not like he has anything better to be doing right now. Yona spends her mornings getting dressed and deafening her wing of the palace with her koto playing and Soowon has been mysteriously absent for the last few days. Maybe she has gotten sick again; it would not be the first time Hak spent a week at Hiryuu palace without crossing paths with his sickly friend.

Busy daydreaming, Hak does not really tune into the process until they ring the ceremonial bell. Only then does he snap back to reality, and locks eyes with Soowon as she steps through the door, flanked by her uncle and one of her maids. He sees his own confusion mirrored in her eyes. _What? Why is she here?_ Then understanding returns and his mouth falls open until Grandpa’s well-placed elbow prompts him to feign some kind of dignity again.

He spends the first half of the meeting trying to catch her eye. But she is studiously looking at her folded hands, the very image of a demure princess. Before he realizes it, or has time to process any of what was said, the meeting is over. She stands, bows to him and Grandpa Mundeok as if they were strangers, still avoiding his eyes, and follows her uncle out. Her head is unbowed, but there is a tense set to her shoulders.  

Hak sends a baffled look at Grandpa Mundeok. The old man is stroking his beard pensively. Once he catches Hak looking at him he shrugs.

“It’s not going to work out. A shame. It would have been a good match, the two of you,” he says, brows furrowed. Hak doesn’t know which part of that statement he should be vehemently agreeing with.

* * *

 

A week later, he’s sitting under one of the terraces, as is his wont, pretending to be asleep. In reality, his head is roiling with conflicting emotions. Relief wars with insidious bitterness. If it had been any other woman, he would have rejected her without a second thought. He has done so several times in the past. He was not planning on marrying, after all. He has no time for it, what with his duties as a general in training as well as the role of bodyguard he must prepare for. And as if anyone could ever really measure up to… But that train of thought is hopeless. He abandons it.

He should be happy that Suwon has chosen another, happy for himself, happy for her, and he _is_ , but even so, the rejection stings. As much as he tries to reassure himself that she made the most rational choice, he still feels betrayed somehow. What does Kang Kyo-ga have that Hak doesn’t, anyway, that cold bastard?

It’s not at all that he loves her, or this dark mood he has found himself in would make more sense. She is a dear friend, one who has been by his side since childhood but he has never expected that kind of relationship from her. Knowing her as well as he does, it is actually difficult to imagine quietly independent Soowon marrying anybody. She has never shown any interest in it, unlike Yona who has everything from the color of her dress to the flowers she wants embroidered on her bridal veils planned out already.

On the other hand, it makes perfect sense. As Soowon herself had put it once, she is the spare princess. (Had anyone else made a comment like that, Hak would have introduced them to the ground. Or worse, told Yona about it.) It was only a matter of time before she was made to play the role for which she was raised, used as she was meant to be used. _Oh great_. Now Hak is even thinking in her twisted phrases. He can hear her soft voice in his head, the nonchalance with its perpetual undercurrent of surprising bitterness.

On second thought, he actually can hear her voice. It comes as a murmur from somewhere above him. She must have walked onto the terrace above him while he was lost in thought. He should move, then, and leave her to her discussion.

Then, a shout. “Then why did you choose him?!” Hak’s eyes widen and he freezes. Yona.

Soowon’s voice rises in volume as well, nonetheless remaining calm and even.

“Yona, it is simple politics. Our relationship with the Wind Tribe is strong: their future general will live in Hiryuu Palace as your guard, after all. Those ties do not need strengthening. But the Fire Tibe…Your father wants a stronger connection with Kang Su-jin – I see your face, he’s not _really_ that bad.”

“Who cares about – about politics! You don’t love him. You don’t even know him! Why should you marry him? I-it would have been perfect – we were supposed to be together forever, Soowon, you and Hak and me!” Yona is close to tears. Hak can hear the nasal tone in her words, and her voice shakes. His legs feel rooted to the ground. She’s thought this through and she’s _right_. He’s Yona’s bodyguard now, and any wife of his would naturally be her lady-in-waiting. The three of them would really be together forever. He feels an onslaught of regret and pushes it down. It’s her choice, he reminds himself firmly, and she has chosen already.

Above, there is a long, pregnant pause, and Soowon laughs in her usual, airy way. It sounds brittle to Hak, like a plate teetering over the edge of a table. Her many skirts rustle, and Hak thinks she must be embracing her cousin, cocooning her in her sleeves as she often did when they were children. There is a halfhearted protest from Yona, muffled by fabric. It is quiet again for a moment. Then, Soowon murmurs, “Oh Yona…what a pretty dream…”

With a loud intake of breath, Yona breaks away, her feet pounding against the wood above Hak’s head.

“You- you always – I’m not a child anymore!” As if to belie her point, Yona finally bursts into frustrated tears. Her words are barely distinguishable through her sobs. “I just – hic – wanted you to stay close to me and n-now you’re going to have to leave with that awful nan and I’m never g-going to see you!”

It quickly becomes clear that Soowon has nothing to say in return, and Hak hears a final sob and the familiar sound of Yona’s running footsteps, tripping over her ridiculous robes as she flees crying to her rooms.

He sits there for a long time, waiting for Soowon to leave as well. But it is silent on the terrace above him. He can’t even hear her breathing. Eventually he starts to wonder if she had become so light on her feet that he did not even hear her leave. But when he sticks his head out from under the terrace to check, her quiet voice rings out, startling in the silence.

“So you heard that, I take it, Hak.”

With conscious effort, Hak doesn’t blush at being caught. He climbs fully out and shrugs nonchalantly, trying for an unconcerned air.

“Well, I was here first before the two of you decided to bring your argument along and disturb my nap.”

“Hak… _you_ know it’s not a personal decision, don’t you? It’s just…” she lifts her hand helplessly and lets it fall again. There is uncertainty in her gaze.

Hak instantly regrets all his bitter thoughts. She’s going to have Kang Su-jin as a father-in-law. He was a fool to consider even for a moment that she had chosen this fate for anything but purely political reasons. But now that the choice has been made, she needs to be sure of her decisions so he shrugs and smirks at her.

“Yeah, I get it. Wouldn’t have agreed to it anyway. You’re not making an honest man of me!”

“Oh, is that so? Am I not good enough for you?” she replies and Hak is relieved to see the wry smile replace the momentary fragility. For a moment they just stand there, in comfortable, companionable silence.

She has always been easy for him to read in a way. He knows the little clues that she leaves in the tilt of her head and in the angle of her smile that tell more about her actual emotions than anything else. He also knows that she has shown him more of herself, perhaps, than anyone else has seen. His breath still catches when he remembers the time they lost Yona in the city, the gleam in her eyes down in the dirty alleyways, how she was entirely too comfortable there. How she had spoken and how the whole city had moved at her command. He remembers thinking, “I understand. I would follow her too if she called.”

Covering his somber thoughts with a smirk, he turns back to face her. He doesn’t say what he is thinking. He doesn’t say that he realizes now she was the only one he could have ever happily said yes to. It would not be love, but it would be friendship. Given that love is doomed to be unattainable for him, he should have seen this for the chance it was. Maybe he could have convinced her. Maybe, maybe. These are all empty, useless thoughts.

Instead, he says, “If ever you require it, for any reason, I will pound Kang Kyo-ga into the dirt for you. Just say the word and I will come.”

She laughs into her sleeve, a real laugh. “Thanks, Hak. I knew I could count on you. But he will be my husband. What will I do if you turn him into a human pancake?”

“I’ll take you as my war prize. You can come live in Yona’s rooms. She’d love it.”

He meant it as a joke. But she sighs then, all joy falling from her expression, and moves forward to lean her forehead against his shoulder. Her voice is barely audible. “Oh Hak… what a wonderful dream…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is officially a soap opera now. It's proooobably too obvious that I vaguely ship these two (as much as I can ship SW with anyone...) It's that one scene in canon that has forever ruined my life :'D I needed to include it in some manner in this AU


End file.
